


Detour

by DeeNomilk



Series: Tashok the Dragonborn [8]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angst, just a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 05:59:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18309605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeeNomilk/pseuds/DeeNomilk
Summary: Tashok decides to take a detour on her way back to the College.





	Detour

Tashok’s eyes fall on the fresh fruit stall in the middle of Whiterun’s market, her heart filling with excitement. How delightful! The morning was crisp and chilly, but already the sun was making its presence known and Tashok smiles, knowing she’ll be able to shed her cloak well before her and her companions leave the city to return to the College.

She muses on the fate of the Altmer mage, Orthorn, who’d decided not to travel with them despite her invitation to do so, and who’d left for Winterhold immediately after the lot of them got out of Fellglow Keep.

Tashok had been surprised to see him behind bars, having expected the book thief to be one of the necromancers attacking her. She hadn’t had the heart to tell him that the Archmage hadn’t mentioned him, or that rescuing him wasn’t something Urag had asked of her. She was about to try and spin a story to keep the hopeful look he had, but J’Zargo had butt in and stated they were here for the books and nothing else.

Orthorn’s shoulders had visibly slumped as he berated himself for his mistake, but Tashok wasn’t about to let him wallow in some dark cell. She promptly opened the cage and Orthorn, along with Lucien and J’Zargo, assisted her in pushing through the keep.

Tashok’s recollection of the previous night is interrupted when she feels small fingers press at her waist, squeezing a loud laugh of out her from the ticklish sensation.

Suddenly the locals’ eyes are on her… and a blonde child who crouching next to the stall with wide, fear-filled eyes.

“Something goin’ on here?” one of the nearby guards approaches them.

The young girl is covered in dirt, and looks about ready to dash.

“Just, perusing the produce…” Tashok motions to the stall. “The tomatoes are some of the freshest I’ve seen in a while you see.”

“That so?” the guard sounds unconvinced as she glances at the child.

“Yes, you see,” Tashok casually steps between the two of them. “I mostly live in the Pale so the chance to get fresh produce is dwindling a bit now that the end of the summer months is here.”

“Yes well," the guard's eyes dart to the stall. "Carlotta here only buys the best looking and best tasting ingredients, so I’m not surprised you like what you see.”

By the end of their small conversation about the local farms, the child had disappeared from view.

Tashok glances about trying to see if the child was still nearby, but eventually gives up and returns to the inn with a sack full of food, taking a seat with Lucien and J’Zargo.

“J’Zargo simply feels the two of you need to be more daring…” J’Zargo states before taking a sip from his mug.

“I just don’t…” Lucien starts with this head resting on his hand, until he catches a glimpse of Tashok. “You’re back!”

“I am… I was hoping we could make a detour through Morthal, if it’s all the same to you. I’ve been wanting to gather ingredients from the marshes around it.”

“Mh, Morthal…” Lucien muses. “You, know, if you rearrange the letters, you get Thalmor… Coincidence?”

Tashok chokes on her mead as she snorts.

“You, might be on, to something…” she barely manages to say between deep laughter breaths.

“Perhaps we should send Ancano there, he will finally belong and he will no longer walk in on J’Zargo’s experiments.” J’Zargo suggests. “That man is a hair away from getting blown to ash.”

"He'd probably still end up rambling about how our spells don't hold a candle to the _power of a true Altmer_!"

Lucien snorts.

“So, neither of you mind the detour?” Tashok’s eyes dart between her two friends as she stifles a laugh.

“Not at all, I am here to explore Skyrim, after all.” Lucien answers.

“J’Zargo enjoys being in warmer lands.” the Khajiit states. “He will not complain of any delays on the way back to Winterhold.”

“Then it’s decided!” Tashok beams.

—

The marshes surrounding Morthal had… lots of mudcrabs.

Too many, one might say.

Tashok’s ingredient hunt had been interrupted by the combative crustaceans three times now. She allows her frost atronach to wander near her in the hopes it crushes any other hostile crabs while her gaze trails to the ground. She soon falls into the same, perhaps unsafe, habit she has when gathering ingredients and lets herself be guided towards the ingredients without paying much attention to her surroundings, or where she was heading.

Soon she comes face to face with a frost atronach, but not her own.

She stands up and peers around it, noticing a robed Redguard who seems to also have been out gathering ingredients.

“Good afternoon!” she greets the figure, who stands quickly and whirls around to face her.

“Who?” the man shouts in surprise, before grimacing. “If you stand before me to accuse me of sacrificing children, or eating the hearts of the dead, you may save your breath. I have done no such thing, nor do I intend to. I simply wish to live my life in peace.”

“Why would I do that?” Tashok tilts her head. What an odd thing to announce to a stranger.

“The people of Morthal would much rather weave their own horrid tales about my life than simply ask me for the truth.” the man scoffs. “If they choose to fear me in their ignorance, that is their choice. But it will not change what is true.”

“So what do you do around here? Are you an alchemist?”

“No, that would be Lami… I try and keep to myself. I offer spells and scrolls to those who need them, and wisdom in conjuration magic for those who wish to learn. Beyond that I seek only to be left alone to pursue my research. The common people simply don’t trust conjurers, likening us all to necromancers and defilers.”

Tashok’s ears perk up at the mention of conjuration magic.

“Oh I don’t mind Conjuration at all! Look!” she points to her own frost atronach.

A thought crosses her mind.

“Wait!!” she gasps. “Are you Falion?”

“You, know of me?” the man blinks in surprise.

“Phinis told me about you!”

Falion’s expression sours.

“Oh.” he barely contains his sneer. “You’re with the College.”

“I am!” Tashok states with pride. “I’m an alchemist, and I’m starting to learn more about Conjuration, Illusion, and Enchanting. J’Zargo here is focussing on destruction.”

J’Zargo gives him a nod.

“So, what brings you to Morthal?” Falion asks.

“I wanted to gather some ingredients for my potions.” Tashok bends down to continue her harvest as she speaks. “This place a a haven for deathbells, honestly.”

“Yes, I spend a fair amount of time around here as well. I’d beware of being out at night, however. It can be quite dangerous.”

“Mudcrabs?” Tashok jests.

“You might find mudcrabs to be the least of your concerns…” the Redguard almost manages to repress his amusement. “My sister Jonna runs the inn here, you should stay there if you’re thinking of spending the night in Morthal.”

“So what kind of ingredients were you looking for out here?”

“Mainly mudcrab chitin, actually. It’s why I summoned my atronach.”

“Ouh, trying to cure poison or diseases?”

“While both are useful, most people come to me with help for diseases.”

Tashok stands up and rummages through her pack before pulling out a bag full of chitin chips and handing it to the man.

“Here, take it.” she offers. “I don’t use it much, and by the sounds of it you will.”

“I…” Falion stares at the bag before finally reaching to take it. “I appreciate it. How much would you like as compensation? I may not have enough on me but my home is nearby…”

“Oh, no no don’t worry about that. Like I said it’s just taking up space in my bag… Although… You said you sold spells?”

“Correct. I assume you’re interested?”

“I am indeed! Do you have any on you?”

“Unfortunately not, but if you accompany me to my home, I could pull out all the ones I have for you to chose from.”

Tashok nods and follows him into Morthal and up to the docks before inviting her inside his home, where a small child who was in the midst of reading a book stands up excitedly as they enter.

“You’re back!” she smiles at Falion. “You’re usually gone longer, is everything okay?”

She glances at Tashok, who leans in slightly and gives her a short wave.

“Yes, Agni. This lady here’s just here to buy some spells.” Falion explains as he kneels next to a chest and pulls out a pile of books, seemingly spells from many different schools of magic.

“Mhm, cute little place isn’t it?” Lucien comments.

"Do you like magic?” Agni approaches Tashok eagerly. “Falion says I'm good at learning. I like learning about magic.”

“I do like magic!” Tashok gets down on one knee. “I for one, think Restoration is quite important to learn early on. It can help you and others. Of course, Conjuration is fun too.”

“Ahem…” Falion motions to the books.

“Right…” Tashok’s eyes scan the tomes before her. “Oh! I’ve been meaning to learn this one… I’ll take it!”

“Illusion, uh?” Falion comments as he hands her the tome and pockets the coins.

“Drevis has been trying to help me understand it better… He said it’s a bit hard to get, so I should try and practice and see if I get what he’s trying to tell me.”

“Hmf, of course…”

Tashok cringes at the acrid tone.

“…Something wrong?” she asks tentatively.

“I’ve just got my… issues, with the way things are being done at the College.” Falion pinches the bridge of his nose.

“That’s why you left, right?”

Falion looks up to the girl, but notices no accusations in either her tone nor her expression. Just curiosity.

“It is. I felt the College should be more responsible of its members.” he explains. “Aren is the Archmage, and yet all he does is delegate and barely seems to notice who comes in our out, who goes missing or who gets hurt. It’s shameful really…”

He looks at the Orc, waiting for a reaction, but she simply nods and listens. His eyes glance to the Khajiit with her, who’s engulfed in studying his materials and seemingly unaware of the conversation.

“I’m aware that you’re a member…” he tries to soften his harsh words. “And you’re welcome to be…”

“I understand.” Tashok gives him a small shrug. “If you ask me you did the smart thing.”

“You agree and yet you stay with them?”

“I don't really agree with you. I like it there, and aside from a few small things, I don’t have any problems… But you didn’t like the environment, so you left. That’s a smart, and good thing to do. I’d do the same.”

She _has_ done the same.

“Right!” Falion allows a smile to spread at the commendation. “Winterhold isn’t the only place one can learn!”

A nod.

“Just look at me…” he continues. “I’ve managed to set up a shop here, I’m teaching Agni and I continued to be a great mage without them. Sure I’ve had my fare share of scorn, but I’ve pulled through.”

“Seems like you have… You’ve got your own thing going on here.” Tashok motions to their surroundings. “As long as you’re content I do see why anything else should matter.”

“Besides, I do what most people would never dare attempt…” Falion seems to catch himself and goes silent. As if he came dangerously close to spilling a secret.

“Magic?”

“Sure…”

A heavy silence falls on the group, enough that J’Zargo stops his perusing and glances between the two of them.

“Is there a problem?” he asks.

“No!” Falion cries as Tashok answers her friend.

“I don’t know?” she shrugs in confusion.

“Everything is fine.” Falion repeats, directly to Tashok this time.

A terse silence replaces the previous one. Tashok stands up picking at the book’s spine and scratching at the trims uncomfortably, until she feels a hand on her arm.

“Why don’t we head to the inn here?” Lucien suggests. “I’m dying for some food right about now.”

“Good idea…” Tashok sighs in relief. “Well, sorry for bothering you… Thanks for the spells!”

She doesn’t wait for Falion’s reply and dashes outside with Lucien and J’Zargo following suit.

“Well… that was awkward.” Lucien notes.

“Did I do something wrong?” Tashok glances back at the house.

“No, I don’t think we overstepped any boundaries here.”

While Tashok trusts Lucien’s judgement, she can’t shake the feeling that she’s made a faux pas somewhere. She’s got a tendency to do that…

Her mind is still ruminating on the previous interaction when Lucien notices her distant expression, punctuated by a frown.

“Why don’t we focus on something more interesting?” he suggests as they sit down at one of the tables. “Like those books you’ve got!”

“The books?” Tashok squints before perking up. “Right the books!”

She pulls out the three tomes and hands one to each of her friends.

“Let’s see if we can find anything relevant…” she says before opening the cover.

She scans the books for any keyword that might lead her to something related to Saarthal… Nords… Atmorans… Orb… Magic…

She sighs as she nears the end.

Nothing.

“Wait, this passage here talks about what could’ve been in Sarthaal.” Lucien nudges her. “Look… _The Nords found something when they built their city, buried deep in the ground. They attempted to keep it buried, but the elves learned of it and coveted it for themselves. Thus they assaulted Saarthal, their goal not to drive the Nords out but to secure this power for themselves…_ ”

The three mages look at one another.

“Do you think?” Tashok looks down at the pages.

“The orb could be…” Lucien’s eyes widen.

“The catalyst for the Nordic-Falmer war?” even J’Zargo sounds interested. “That means whatever that thing is… It’s incredibly powerful.”

“Powerful enough to warrant a massacre…” Tashok swallows bile rising in her mouth. “To cause a war.”

Her discomfort with the object feels valid now.

“We shouldn’t have that at the College.” she spits.

“What?! Nonsense!” J’Zargo protests. “Imagine what we could do with something like this…”

“It’s wrong, J’Zargo.” Tashok mutters as she clenches her fists, taking both her friends aback.

“Friend…” J’Zargo starts but finds himself unprecedentedly short on words.

“What’s wrong with the Eye?” Lucien asks.

“Everything…” Tashok tries to explain but the words get caught in her throat. “It’s… always like… beckoning me. Whenever I look at it I get this, this rising feeling of anger and frustration and all I want to do is rage…”

She blinks, trying to keep the stinging in her eyes under control.

“It’s just wrong.” she sighs. “I don’t know why… Doesn’t it do that to you two?”

J’Zargo and Lucien give each other a baffled look before shaking their heads.

“No… It just emirates of strong magic to me.” Lucien answers.

“J’Zargo agrees. All he feels is the strong energy the Eye gives off.” her other friend explains. “Sometimes J’Zargo uses it when he practices.”

“J’Zargo!” Tashok admonishes.

“What?” J’zargo sounds offended. “You are the only one who seems to have a problem with it. Perhaps the feelings are from you, not the Eye of Magnus?”

Despite the lack of criticism in her friend’s tone, Tashok feels her ears go hot at the suggestion. She stands up in a huff before storming out of the inn just as the server brings their stews.

She comes face to face with Falion, who begins to speak.

“There you are!” he starts. “I’d hoped I could catch you…”

His words trail off as Tashok ignores him and keeps stomping towards the marshes.

It’s not J’Zargo’s words that angered her.

It’s the possibility that they may be true.

If no one else is feeling like this, what else could explain it?

 _How did you lot manage to raise four of them?! Wouldn’t they… you know, hurt the other children?…_ Many people used to ask in disbelief.

 _I’m impressed, you’ve got tremendous self control. More than I expected for… Well…_ At the time Ancald’s words had felt like praise. Maybe even he thought it was.

 _They arrested the criminals… Orcs, obviously._ Disdain.

But it isn't true! Orcs aren’t inferior, or less intelligent. They aren’t violent by nature… That’s just what ignorant people say. When a Breton does something wrong, no one says it’s because they’re a Breton, or just how Bretons are. They’re wrong!

Tashok knows this.

She _knows_.

_Then it’s just me…_

Angry tears are trailing down her cheeks when she hears approaching chittering.

A mudcrab, advancing towards her with its pincers ready to strike, and all at once it’s too much.

Tashok sees red and sends her foot swinging with a scream, colliding with the hard shell and setting off a loud crack that echoes through the marshes along with her voice.

The mudcrab flies a few feet back and tumbles limply across the wet soil.

It doesn’t make Tashok feel any better… She slumps down next to a tree and rests her head back on the trunk, closing her eyes and focussing on the sounds around her. She hears the water-wheel from the sawmill pushing and lifting the water, and the sound of the wind weaving through the trees.

She takes a deep breath and allows herself to get lost in the ambient sound of nature. She falls into the marsh’s rhythm quickly enough, and when her ears twitch at the sound of soft footsteps, she grunts. No doubt either Lucien or J’Zargo came to try and smooth things over. She doesn’t want to face either of them, or have to explain how she’s feeling and what she’s thinking.

“I’m not in the mood to talk.” she says flatly and the steps stop.

“I wanted to apologize.” Tashok opens her eyes at the sound of a voice that is _not_ one of her friends’.

She glances around to see Falion a few meters away from her.

“What?” she squints, trying to understand the situation.

“I apologize for my behaviour earlier.” he says. “I acted godly through no fault of your own.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Tashok mumbles, looking back to empty space and closing her eyes again.

She opens them once more when, after some time, she doesn’t hear Falion move. She looks at him to see him standing where he already was, his eyes darting around as he shuffles in place.

“Need something?” she asks.

“What do you like to drink?” Falion stammers out.

“…What?”

“They have drinks at the inn… I figured I could get you something, I uh, I was curious about your opinion on the different schools of magic. It's been a while since I've had a fellow colleague to talk to.”

Tashok takes a few seconds to process the words, before allowing herself a soft smile and standing up.

“Mead is fine…” she says.

“I’m sure Jonna’s got plenty.” Falion visibly relaxes. “Now the challenge will be hearing each other over Lurbuk’s… Singing…”

She allows the fellow mage to lead her back into the Hold and towards the Moorside Inn.

**Author's Note:**

> In case it wasn't very noticeable Tashok doesn't know she's Dragonborn yet. That comes much, much later in the story. 
> 
> So far she still calls herself Tashok grade-Wayrest wherever she goes.
> 
> When she remembers to introduce herself that is.


End file.
